


The Man I Know

by CaptainTarthister



Series: The Lannisters Are Coming [10]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Kissing, Love, very little smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 04:15:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7153115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainTarthister/pseuds/CaptainTarthister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaime and Brienne encounter Aerys Targaryen. Angst follows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Man I Know

It was a reflection of how different things were now, and it brought both terror and comfort. Brienne had been by herself longer than she was with Jaime. It was worrying that in less than ten years, she had gotten so used to the vitality and warmth of his presence. Jaime was the sun, golden, giving, the light of her life. 

Tonight she saw a glimpse into a darkness. Her husband was a lot of things that made people want to wring his neck or throttle him to the ground—she was one of them—but you could never accuse him of being mercurial or of outright cruelty. There was no malice in him. He was not known for having dark moods or any hint of it. The Jaime that had come into her life had already licked his wounds, a man deeply-scarred but unbroken. Her husband was so strong, so stubborn that she tend to believe he had tapped into some secret power to will things in his favour. She didn’t see him as a hero but a man of honour.

As sure as she was of the sound of his voice despite a crowd and with her eyes closed, so was she of the cracks and chinks in his armour, of portions gouged out. The man that had stood before Aerys Targaryen earlier in the night had looked so unsure, lost, so defeated that Brienne was tempted to check if he was really her husband. His eyes told her, emeralds that had gone steely before the man who had bloodied his name to the press when he was just a young, ambitious advertising executive. His hand firm around hers gave her further confirmation. 

Brienne then had wanted to spring before her husband and give Aerys Targaryen the smackdown he had long richly deserved but she knew when to step aside. She trusted Jaime to fight his own battles. Her protective instincts had screamed at her to take down Aerys but she knew Jaime wouldn’t forgive her if she did. Instead, she was forced to watch as Aerys sliced Jaime’s resolve into bleeding shreds. Hate was something she knew very well but Aerys Targaryen had awakened something else in her, a loathing that seemed to come deeper than her soul.

If not for Daenerys Targaryen, who was Jaime’s client at LSM Creatives, appearing and calling on her father with an enthusiasm that couldn’t mask her desperation, a fight would have broken out at the hotel lobby. As Daenerys swooped between the men, greeting Jaime awkwardly as she did, Brienne tightened her hold around his hand. He squeezed back and gave her a barely-discernible nod before letting her pull him away. 

Often on the drive home after their date night, Jaime teased her with naughty touches and really inappropriate, vulgar jokes in between traffic lights. He would kiss her, settle his hand on her knee. This time it was quiet. The tension was so thick Brienne could feel her throat closing up. Jaime’s white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel told her she had to let him be, like it or not. The silence continued all the way to the front door, where he muttered tersely that he would be checking the locks and doors. She watched him walk away before going upstairs to check on the children.

There had never been a time in their relationship when Jaime retreated into himself like this. That fight during his forty-fifth birthday weekend was nothing to what was slowly unfolding. Brienne could only watch as he yanked off his clothes before he headed for the shower. She didn’t know whether to wait or sleep so she opted to read until he finished.

When Jaime joined her in bed, she knew she had to do something. The shower had not eased his tension and the hardness in his eyes remained. Her heart banged fast and painfully in her chest but she forced herself to lay a hand on his shoulder, slowly climbing up his cheek. Jaime leaned into her touch, looking as if one hungry for this gentleness. And tired, very tired. The steel in his eyes receded somewhat. There were no words to say. But he had to know she was here. In any way he would need her. 

The result, hours later, was her body sore and aching from being taken hard twice. She pleaded with him to talk to her with every kiss and he responded in the way he only could for now, tongue deep in her mouth and teeth nipping at her lightly. He sought her comfort with every hungry tug of her nipple into his mouth. Her vow to stand by him was reiterated over and over with the thrust of her hips and he demanded her certainty of it as he pounded into her. It was not playful, lusty Jaime between her legs but she took him in her arms, urged him to rest his head on her chest. He was quiet all throughout, the only sound from him was his gasp against her tongue when he came. She couldn’t speak the words so she kissed him. She only spoke of how much she loved him until she fell asleep. 

It was the chill on the side of Jaime’s bed that woke her up. Brienne put on a robe, grimacing at the soft, worn flannel chafed at her still-swollen nipples. She was tender between the legs so she had to walk gingerly. The ache wasn’t unpleasant but reminded her how far away Jaime had been despite being deep inside her. Her bare feet touched the cool floorboards but she was too worried to feel the discomfort.

A peek in the children’s rooms showed their father’s absence. But neither was he in the kitchen nor the study. His car was in the driveway and the dark cavern of the garage told her it was empty as well. She was about to go upstairs to call him on his cell when she heard the metallic clicks of a doorknob being turned. Brienne stood at the bottom of the stairs, hitting the lights just as Jaime let himself in. His green eyes widened at the sight of her. 

His hair was slick, dark gold, sticking out on its ends. Flushed and sweat-sheened skin told her he had gone off to do something vigorous. Curiously, she took in his worn t-shirt, the armpits dark with sweat, his baggy shorts clinging to his muscular thighs. Droplets clung to the curling hairs of his legs. He locked the door, moving as if he were in water. He glanced at her. “Sorry. Were you looking for me?” 

“Yes. Where were you?”

“Couldn’t sleep. I went running.”

Brienne looked at the grandfather clock on the wall. “At three in the morning?”

Despite his shadowed gaze, he gave her a sheepish look. “I’m sorry if I worried you.” 

“It’s okay,” she murmured, nodding. “I worried because you were gone from my side.”

It sounded so needy but she looked at him half-defiantly. Jaime shuffled to her, his running shoes making sharp little squeaks across the floor until he was close enough to tip his chin up and kiss her lightly on the lips. He tasted of sweat and earth, of moonlight. She kissed him back, not knowing what to do in the situation they were in but determined to see things through. 

“Jaime, please don’t be mad but I don’t know how to do this,” she admitted between kisses.

“Kissing? You’re doing very well.” His rough, tired voice dispelled the humour the words could bring. She pulled away from him. 

“I don’t know how to do this,” she repeated, helpless and frustrated as she made a vague hand gesture. “I’m so sorry.”

Looking puzzled, he demanded, “What do I have to forgive you for?”

“Aerys.” Brienne blurted out. “I don’t know how to talk to you about him but I know—“

He sighed loudly and ran his fingers through his hair, turning away from her. “Fuck, Brienne.”

Reddening, she sputtered, “I said I’m sorry! But I feel that we should talk. I don’t know if it’s what we should do but maybe it will help?” 

She went to him, her eyes big and worried. Jaime opened his arms and she threw herself there, relieved that he wasn’t angry. Her arms went around him, her lips right next to his ear. 

Holding him, she whispered, “Jaime, please. I don’t know what to do. Tell me what to do. It breaks my heart—“

He grunted before catching her tingling lips in his own. His kiss was as fierce as hers were soft, tentative and seeking answers. “My love,” he groaned, wrapping a hand around her nape to keep her anchored for more of his kisses. She nodded, crumpling his shirt in her hands, ignoring the salty stickiness of his skin and shirt as she moved closer. The muscles of his body pressed and rippled against her own.

His kisses coaxed her to parry back with the same hunger and boldness so she did. Every suction of his lip was to make him forget what happened. Every swipe of her tongue was to help him remember who he was, now. She cupped his beautiful face in her hands and kissed him lovingly, hoping to banish all his fears and doubts with every press of her lips. His arms were hard bands around her waist, the scent of his sweat a thick, intoxicating cloud that made her kiss him harder. On and on their kiss went until she pulled away again, gasping for breath, flushed deeper than he was. She still cupped Jaime’s cheeks as he rested his forehead against hers, his breaths an echo of her own, his heart thundering against her chest. 

She gazed at him, imploring that he let her help him. His dry breath bathed her face.

“I’m sorry.”

Startled, she asked, “What for?”

“I am not the man you deserve, Brienne.”

She shook her head vehemently. “You _are_ the man for me.”

He hissed and drank from her lips again before setting her away. Her knees were knocking together but she firmed her stance and looked at him, still worried. She watched him move away and it snapped something in her. 

“Aerys Targaryen is hateful,” she suddenly declared. Jaime looked at her, startled at her outburst. Maybe because the kiss had emboldened her, or she hated what this man continued to do her husband and hated herself even more for not fighting him as she should have done. Dangerous this ground may be but Brienne Lannister didn’t walk away from a fight. “He had no right to say those things to you.”

Jaime flinched and she knew he was remembering. Ingrate. Arrogant. No-talent. Thief. _“I thought Lannisters always paid their debts.”_

Fired up, she continued, “So you thought of poaching his clients. That happens all the time. I’m not saying what you did isn’t a big deal but Aerys Targaryen should learn to get his head out of his ass and move on.” Brienne continued. “You have moved on. You are so far away from it now that it can no longer touch you.”

“Is that what you think?” Jaime asked softly, wearily sinking down the sofa. 

“He’s dredging up the past because he knows he can’t get to you anymore, Jaime. It’s all he has of you. You’ve beaten him and he doesn’t like it.” She stood before him, flushed and huffing. She fell to her knees and reached for his hands, sliding her fingers between the arcs. Her eyes implored him to look at her as she pleaded, “Jaime, I wasn’t around when it happened. I don’t know who you were during that time. But I know the man that came from it. I love him. I won’t change anything about him no matter how much he wishes otherwise.” Her voice shook. “You wouldn’t be the man I love if things were different.”

He looked at her. Emotions flitted across his face. Surprise. Anger. Doubt. Resentment. She shook her head as if he had spoken something she disagreed with. 

“If Aerys still thinks you’re in some contest, you’ve won. You’ve gained back more than you lost.” 

“Have I really?” Jaime asked, his voice small. Bitterly, he added, “People won’t let me forget, Brienne. Aerys will never let me forget.” 

“Then don’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t forget.” Her eyes glowed like the clearest sapphires. “It is part of who you are. . . take it and make it yours and Aerys won’t cut you down again. I saw a desperate man—“

Jaime nodded. “I’m sorry you saw that about me—“

“Not you. _Aerys._ ”

He looked at her as she nodded fiercely. “That’s right. Aerys. He had to remind you because that’s all he can say about you—“

“Brienne, it’s all that a lot of people say about me—“

“One of the things they say but believe me what you have accomplished—“

_“It’s always there! I can’t get away from it!”_ He suddenly raged. Brienne didn’t back down.

“And I’m telling you to make it a part of who you are but never let it mark you.” She said.“Jaime you have done so many great things in your career and you will continue to do so. I’m so proud of you. _You’re the best man I know._ ” 

“How can you say that?” Jaime sounded really disbelieving. Brienne grunted in frustration, torn between kissing him senseless or kicking him hard in the head. 

“Do you not really see what I see?”

For the first time since their encounter with Aerys, Jaime quirked a small, hesitant smile. “You’re biased.”

“ _I_ see things clearly.” She shot back hotly. “I love you for who you were and are and will be.” 

She was still glaring at him when he surprised her again by bringing her hands to his lips and kissing her knuckles. The stormy expression remained on her face even when he lowered her hands but did not release them. When he looked at her, she caught her breath. This was the Jaime she knew. 

"You really would, wouldn’t you?” He asked, awed and staggered by her passionate declaration.

She took his hands and kissed them. “We don’t get to choose who we love.”

He shook his head, smiling tenderly. “You chose me.”

“Always.”


End file.
